


Guns and Poses

by Measured



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Missing Scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-31
Updated: 2015-08-31
Packaged: 2018-04-18 06:52:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4696349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Measured/pseuds/Measured
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Scout's trying to mix guns and romance, with varying results. (Or: why Miss Pauling kept running into Force-A-Natures in The Contract.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Guns and Poses

**Author's Note:**

> So, was I really the only one who thought this of The Contract? Several of Miss Pauling's lines in this entire piece are contract lines from the game. (The "I Need you" line in particular is a Scout rare contract line) 
> 
> Betaed by Carrie.

Scout had learned all kinds of lessons today, like apparently, guns were harder to stack than they looked. In his mind he could see a gun heart, which was probably romantic and crap, and the sort of thing a girl like Miss Pauling would dig. He'd seen her looking in at those gun magazines, eyes wide like maybe she was being swept off her feet by a gun with legs and a smug grin on his metal face.

Maybe if he made a fancy cologne that smelled like guns, he'd catch her eye. Ew de Gun smoke, or whatever the hell those French bastards called it.

He had to admit, he loved some good guns, though not the way Heavy did, like he'd adopt all the stray guns and keep them the way Medic kept birds, but with less accidental immortal Archimedes monsters.

Or at least Scout _hoped_ they were accidental. With Medic, who knew.

From this angle it sort of looked more like a pile, but he was sure that Miss Pauling got the deeper meaning behind it. She was a smart girl, he was sure she got art. Besides, rich fucks paid tons for pictures of soup cans, she could probably sell this hunk of metal done by a hunk for millions--but obviously she wouldn’t, because she would be so impressed at how he made something just for her. Maybe next time he'd spell out _Miss Pauling is the greatest_ in Force-A-Natures so big that it could be seen from space.

But a single pile which was sort of artistic, but in a non-stupid way wasn't enough for him.   
He'd tried some creative spelling with bullets in one of the walls over on Gravel Pit, but it'd only put him back in Respawn with a ricocheted bullet in his skull. Miss Pauling was real capable, classy girl, so obviously, she needed a gun-chair. He'd only had about three trips to Medic and Respawn when he forgot to unload them. And Mann's Glue said it could glue a frigging rampaging elephant down, complete with illustration of Saxton Hale lifting one above his head.

Scout leaned back to admire his handiwork. Really, he was onto something. Scout knew he was a visionary with the gun-chair. He was sure that they'd be like flowers were now, a total standard for romance with awesome gun-loving girls.

 _Psyche_ , like there was any girl as awesome as Miss Pauling.

Looking back at his handiwork, he thought it really added something to outside her office. This place wasn't exactly known for its decoration; everything was utility down here. He was pretty sure that even the potted plants were evil and filled with lasers or something.

A door opened down the hall, and Scout froze. He jerked from side to side and tried to find the words he'd planned all along. But all his plans had gone, along with his confidence. Scout rushed down the hall, slipping on the metal floors and barely missing the wall.

He tried to catch his breath, when it came to mind that this boisterous laughter definitely didn't sound like the Miss Pauling he knew and adored. Peering around the corner, he could see too-tight shorts and chest hair shaped like Australia.

"A chair made of guns? Just what I always needed! Bidwell, make that patent right away. I'll call it Saxton's Chairgun." 

"And the other pile of guns, sir?"

"I don't know, we'll smelt them down, then sell them to those mercenaries as hats for twice the money!" 

He lifted up the chair and _left with it_ , as if giving his gun-chair a stupid name like _Saxton's Chairgun_ wasn't enough of an insult. He started to pace, the fury welling up in him as his hands curled towards fists. Usually, he'd punch out any asshole who dared to mess with him, then smash their skulls in with his bat for good measure. But this was Saxton Hale, and even he didn't go around killing the people who helped bring his paychecks about.

Scout took a swing at the wall instead. He looked cool for approximately two seconds, before he drew back his hand and let out a scream that certainly did not sound like a twelve year old girl. Saxton made it look easy, but punching walls was a lot harder than it looked. 

He shook his aching hand, and mentally wondered if a trip to the doc wasn't in order. Broken bones was just what his day needed.

"What a friggin' jackass," Scout muttered. "Who the hell comes in and steals _art?_ "

It wasn't enough that the guy wore tacky shorts, he had to go stealing Scout's brilliant ideas. 

*

A gun which he could also beat people's skulls with was his best idea yet. But this time, he was sneaking around like a stinking Spy, because he wasn't having another idea stolen by Stealy McHotpants. He'd waited until Saxton Hale was at least three continents away before he pulled out his latest idea, but with that asshole, there was no telling when he'd fly in through the window or kick in a door.

He rested it just outside her office, and even put a bow on it, because a classy girl deserved classy stuff. He really thought it livened up the whole dull discount Sci-Fi freak show the base had going on.

Seeing her walking down the hall towards him was like a punch to the face, but way more fun. He shifted, mentally scrambling for the words to say everything that built up in him.

"Miss Pauling--! Oh, yeah, over here--"

This time, he forced himself not to flee. His voice cracked, like he was twelve, and he just pointed at the guns. "Yeah, for you--"

She pushed up her glasses, and he got distracted by her hands. Lavender nail polish this time, slightly chipped. He'd never just sat down and thought _damn, look at the hands on that girl_ until Miss Pauling. From the way she held clipboards, to how her fingers curled around the handle of a gun, she was all elegant grace and class.

" _More guns?_ I've been tripping all over your guns for months," she said.

"You noticed?" Scout said eagerly.

"How could I not? They're everywhere. Scout we need to talk," Miss Pauling said.

She went on into her her office ahead of him, and left the door open. She was waiting for him, and even wanted to _talk to him._ Probably to thank him for the incredible imaginative gifts, and ask him on twenty dates at once.

Now, if only he'd gotten to give her that gun chair, then she'd be swooning into his arms, and begging him for fifty dates.

Scout pumped his arm in a little victory gesture.

"Nailed it," Scout said.


	2. Contract Contact

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scout's trying to mix guns and romance, with varying results. (Or: why Miss Pauling kept running into Force-A-Natures in The Contract.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Speaking of which, [Star_'s contract video](youtube.com/watch?v=7iPxU58nuXo) didn't inspire it, but it sure helped it along.

Scout had taken to keeping his headset on and sneaking it out of base to his bunk, just in case. Technically this was the kind of thing that got people killed around here, but it wasn't like he was stealing briefcases. Now _that_ would give him a one-way ticket to shallow grave city.

He never knew when Miss Pauling might ask him to do some midnight contract. She might just suddenly need him at any second, and then he would be ready. He'd even started setting out a clean pair of clothes so he could slip in as fast as he could manage without pants ending up on his head again.

He'd even started to make his calls home by payphone, so he could keep his headset open. Sure it was racking up the bills, but he wasn't about to have Miss Pauling send a contract off to some other sub-par mercenary. 

Nothing got his heart racing like hearing that phone ring. Not ghosts, or wizards, the latest Sox season, or even other girls. It was like a drug, a shot of Bonk straight into his veins. He'd practice in his head what to say while he was taking his morning and nightly practice runs, and even before he went to sleep. He saved all his wittiest lines, and all the great stories about how he was mentoring the guys to be just as cool as he was. So far, it wasn't working, but he'd make cool men out of them yet.

Everything he'd tried so far came out jittery, a flop, and not the dynamic and dramatic lines that would fit in his favorite movies. The kind the spy hero said just before they had to go punch baddies in some windswept masterpiece.

Since he'd stopped going to town to try and scope the bars and occasional chicken joints for chicks, he had plenty of free time. He spent most of it going straight to the mirror and practicing his greeting game. Any shiny surface worked well, from walls to doors, and once even Medic's glasses, at least until Medic came back and tried to disembowel him for touching his stuff.

He had only seconds to be the most memorable, amazing man she had ever met, and make her so utterly charmed that she demanded he go out with her tonight, and then every night after that, because he was so awesome that she couldn't deal.

Of course, he had a head up on the other guys, given that he was already real handsome, funny and had tons of muscles. But even something this good took practice, and even he admitted that a girl like Miss Pauling was out of his league, but not for long.

*

"Call me, Miss _Pauling,_ " he said, testing the words out on his tongue. Sometimes he just said her name to hear the way it sounded, and taste the syllables in his mouth. It was the closest thing he'd gotten to kissing her.

"Call me, Miss Pauling?" This time he sounded too desperate and shaky, like some junkie looking for a fix.

"Call me---"

He was cut off by the actual sound of his headset ringing. He fumbled for the button, his hands shaking with a jittery sort of peak excitement.

"Scout? It's Pauling."

"Yeah―Yeah, Miss Pauling!" He laughed, simply from the giddy feeling of hearing her voice . "I am one hundred percent here. I'm _your man_."

"Uh-huh, that's nice. I've got a job for you," she said.

And not for the first time, he was just struck silent. She'd said what he'd said was nice, and he'd just said he was her _man_. He leapt up, barely able to contain his vocal excitement.

"Y-yeah, I got it," Scout said. He cleared his throat, and pushed on. "I mean, you can always count on me, Miss Pauling! You'll have that pile of bodies with a _bow_ on it before noon!"

"Good, I'm counting on you, Scout."

As the phone cut off, Scout let out a whoop.

*

He'd ditched his team a bit, because his stack of bodies was awful high, as well as three captured points. He figured they could manage to take one point without him carrying them. Of course, this was the guys here; he had to lecture them on everything, then dodge the bullets when they were ungrateful enough to get angry at his helpful advice.

Being incredible was tough sometimes, but he took it like a champ.

He wasn't about to have Miss Pauling's cute voice drowned out by screams and gunfire again. He still had it out for that BLU Sniper who picked him off just as Miss Pauling called him.

"Miss Pauling! _Hello_! Hi! Howareyoudoing---todayisgreatandsoareyou--"

She paused on the other line. For a second he had the panicky feeling that the phone had broken off. "Miss Paulng, you there?"

"I can't understand a thing you just said," she said.

"Well, that's all right, I'll just repeat it all--"

"That's not necessary. Anyways... Contract completed. I'll have the payment shipped to you shortly." He heard a sharp intake of breath over the phone, and the sound of something being opened. "Oh, this one's a beauty. If you don't want it, _I_ will take it," she said.

He could die happy if she looked at him even half as fondly as she looked on guns. Maybe if he went like Engineer, and turned body parts into guns---but he liked his body too much to mangle it, even if he could fire by flexing.

"Go ahead. I mean, I already got guns, two of 'em, in fact," Scout said. He patted his bicep.

"You're flexing, aren't you? You do know that I can't see over the phone, right?"

"I just figured you had heat-ray vision, like Supergirl, because it's obvious you're a superhero. No other way you could save our asses over and over again."

"No superpowers here, though being able to effortlessly lift a truck would come in handy, I bet,"she said.

He lost his train of thought just at that, like hopping straight off the tracks. He'd about perfected the cape and outfit she'd wear, with a giant P logo on her chest. Was it for Pauling, or Perfect?

Obviously the answer was _both._

"Anyways, you certainly do have enough guns. I've been tripping over your Force-A-Natures wherever I go," she said.

"You noticed?" Scout said.

"It's hard to not when they're falling out of every closet, beneath my desk, and I'm running over them," she said dryly.

"Yeah," Scout said, and chuckled.

A shame the gun chair had been stolen. All he had to do was get a decent cushion and that would've been the best, most original gift he could've given her. As a bonus, she could've even killed someone with it, if she wanted.

"So, you got anymore contracts for me, Miss Pauling? You know I'll get them done fast and clean. Just like me. In fact, I'm _extra_ fast and _extra_ clean, because I already took a shower, and I'm goin' to take another one. Another three ones, because I'll smell just that great."

"Uh... huh. You know I can't prioritize someone," she said.

"---But, you could have whatever I got. I mean, just talkin' to you is payment enough. Way more special than any old gun."

She cleared her throat. "That technically counts as bribery, you know."

"No, it--"

She continued on, with a brightness and enthusiasm he usually didn't hear from her. At least not towards him. "I'm impressed. You've never tried to bribe me before. Apparently you're showing more initiative. Though you should be careful who you try and bribe and blackmail. If you try the latter, you just might get higher up on my to-kill list," she said. 

There was this lilt in her voice that he could swear was _flirting_. And he knew flirting, it was like a second language to him.

"Impressed? Really? I mean, of course you're impressed, but―it ain't a bribe. It's a gift. You do so much for us all, cleanin' up and stuff...you deserve a little somethin' too. So, yeah, I'll do whatever you want, but you can just keep that gun close. Or guns, I should say, because I do these contracts so well, why'd you even wanna give one to some other guy who will take all day, and then take the gun like some selfish douchebag?"

He heard rustling on the other side. Scout checked behind him. He could never be too sure on the battlefield, and if he got picked off while she was talking, that was it. She wasn't about to call him right back, or wait on the line until he came out of Respawn.

"Hmmm... Really? You'd, let me have them?"

"All of 'em. Every single one. Hell, I'd buy you more guns if I found some more nice ones, you know," he said.

"More guns?" She said, with just a shiver worthy lilt of excitement in her voice. "Then perhaps we could do something off the record."

"Yeah, off the record sounds great. Nice and private and secret...I love secrets, especially with you," he said.

"I'll be in touch," Miss Pauling said. The phone call abruptly stopped, before he could yell out stupid things like she smelled like spring, that just a hint of her voice made his whole week, that she made him think about old magazine ads of people smiling and in white lace.

"Does it count as a date if I technically didn't get a chance to ask her, but I gave her stuff, and maybe we flirted? Wait, no maybes, that was totallly flirtin', I'd know."

He pulled out a slightly cracked magic 8-ball, and gave it a good shake. 

_Answer hazy, ask again later._

"Figures," he said. 

He put the 8-ball, which was definitely worse for the wear, back in his bag. He had to go teach some chucklenuts a lesson, with a gun through their skull. If he had enough time, he'd even bash a few heads in, just for Miss Pauling. 

She'd be watching, and he'd be extra dashing, just for her. Sure, doing that threatened the universe imploding from just how handsome he was, but for Miss Pauling, he'd risk the world.

It wasn't roses, but it sure as hell made her happy. Then again, if he could make roses out of guns, it might be even better than a chair made of guns.


	3. 39 Messages

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scout's trying to mix guns and romance, with varying results. (Or: why Miss Pauling kept running into Force-A-Natures in The Contract.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based on [this contract line](scoutpauling.tumblr.com/post/124593611694/i-was-so-bummed-when-i-forgot-to-cap-and-check-my). Caps have proven that this is in the game and not a cut line, it just has no voice line associated with it.

The light flickered in her office, and blew. yet another thing she'd have to have called to fix. Even with a steady chair, it was too high for her barely five foot frame to reach. She turned on her desk reading lamp, the one extravagance in her very professional and unadorned office. She'd had to replace the original purple glass lampshade that spread out like a bloom, lest it be destroyed by stray bullets.

Even with that lamp, her office was dimly lit, like something out of a film noire. She sat down, and pushed the button on her answering machine.

_"You have, thirty-nine messages."_

Saxton Hale's let out a bellow that crackled across the tinny speakers.

"Miss Pouches, congratulations! You just made the top of my _I'm Coming For You, You Son Of A Bitch_ list! You even beat Charles Darling, and he's been the top for _years_. It takes real moxie to overthrow my nemeses like that. Outstanding job, Miss Pudding. But I'd watch out, Helen's Bidwell. Sleep with one eye open--"

There was a roar in the background, and the sound of Bidwell screaming.

"I'll have to take a rain-check, got a Cougar to fight. But remember, Miss Puddles. _I'm coming for you._ "

She'd made worse enemies. If she ensured that Bidwell got some hush money, he'd find some way to keep Saxton occupied until some other rival stole his attention away. Saxton always did have a ridiculously short attention span and memory.

_"Miss Pauling, I've enclosed the details of your next assignment. Do not let me down. Kill the messenger, and leave no trace. I'm counting on you."_

The message ended without any goodbye. The Administrator could make even the most innocuous of words seem like a cold knife to her back.

She took a sip of coffee and waited for the next message.

 _"Heyyyy, this is me, you know, Scout, yeah you probably recognize my voice, because I'm really one of a kind but---"_

He cleared his throat, and started to sing, of all things.

"I just called to say I-I---wait, what I was sayin' was um, Ihopeyourweekendgoesgreat! Really, yeah I'll be goin' now."

Apparently he hadn't turned the headset off correctly, as he added under his breath. _Goin' to shoot myself. God, I fuckin' choked."_

The sound of something being hit against a wall. She couldn't tell if it was his fists, his head, or some kind of weapon. 

The message broke off, and the next one started.

_"Hey, Scout here. So, this is kinda sudden, but Engie went and is havin' a hoedown. It's probably super stupid and just an excuse to get drunk and shoot things, but you wanna come with? I bet you can really cut a rug. Gimme a ring or somethin', trust me, it'll be great."_

 

_"So, Scout here...again. I'm at the party. It's totally pathetic, but hey, you might have fun. Just head on down if you wanna show up. Yeah, the guys would love to see you. I mean, not just the guys, but me. I'd love to see you---I mean, like to see you."_

He broke into nervous laughter, and swore under his breath. She waited for the explosion, the sudden ghost or zombies or wizards that Soldier had inevitably pissed off. No sound came, except his voice muffled, and berating himself. This time she couldn't hear the words.

_"Yeah, it's me. I guess you were too busy? But don't worry, I saved you some of Engie's grillin'. He's great at grillin'. So, you want me to bring it over tomorrow, or swing it by for a midnight snack? Bet you're still workin' the late shift, huh? This party was lame anyways, you didn't miss anythin' too much, though if you'd come, I would've made it awesome just for you. I'm a one man party machine, but you had to have heard that by now. I mean, my reputation is practically painted on the billboards, right? Right?"_

Over his voice she could hear laughter. _"And then, he sat around like a lovesick puppy, with only the phone for his date! Ooh, Miss Pauuuuliiing, yae the girl for me!"_

_"Gotta go."_

Again he forgot to turn off the headset.

"Hey, I hear someone was callin' for an ass whoopin'!"

There was the sound of glass breaking, and Demoman's laughter.

"Oh, bring it, boyo! Yae think you can take me with a beer bottle? I've been winnin' bar fights since I was a wee lad."

That phone call ended in static, and one, or both of them likely in Respawn.

She attempted to crane her neck to read the clock on the wall, but there were too many shadows in the room to tell the clock hands from the darkness. She still had a lot of bodies left to bury. Then again, checking her messages was vital. There would be dire consequences if she ignored a message from the Administrator.

She brewed another cup of coffee and went through dozens more messages. It was the closest thing she'd gotten to a real break in years, considering that three years running her vacation day had been lost to burying bodies, stopping zombies, and the occasional ex-roommate wizards.

By the time she realized that he'd left so many messages that he'd actually broken the counter, she'd even gotten in some lunch. Most days she had to skip lunch other than whatever she could grab on the way, but this time she got to take her time, as he routinely would fill the message until he was cut off, and then call again to finish the message.

By message twenty, she'd become invested, more amused than she wanted to admit, by message twenty-five, she'd made herself some popcorn, and by the time the message reel ended, she felt an odd sense of loss.

"Back to bodies," she said, even though she was alone in her office.

However, the silence of thirty-nine rolled into another message. She hadn't realized that it was possible for someone to accidentally call while wearing a headset, but Scout managed it. He always managed the impossible.

"Look Scout, you can do this. Okay, you and me, mirror. We got this."

He took several deep breaths before he started talking, and she heard the sound of water running from the faucet, and being splashed. Perhaps on his face? Without a visual, she couldn't tell.

"Miss Pauling, you're--you're somethin'. Real somethin', like so somethin' that I can't find the word, because all the words don't fit, they aren't enough. So I guess what I'm tryin' to say is that I like you.... I mean _really_ like you. No, no, that's too weak. Um, Miss Pauling you're great---really great! In fact, you're greater than any other girl I ever met, and probably more than any other girl I'll ever meet. No, make that _definitely_ better.. Mmm, maybe I'll keep that one, but I gotta have more--more I don't know. She deserves the best, so that's what I'm goin' to be."

"Miss Pauling, you make me feel like...like floatin'? Flyin'? No, that's cliche, and you ain't cliche, you're beyond cliche, you're more...everythin'. Everythin' I didn't know I could ever feel, everyhin' that is beautiful and wonderful in the world you're--you're the best."

She paused the messages for a moment there. It was a raw moment of sincerity, without even bragging or exaggeration. She could feel the pulse in her wrist, a slight stutter shift in her chest.

"I wanna take you on dates, and spoil you, and kiss you and do stuff I never wanted to do or knew I could want to do. And I never wanted to do that before, always out the door, never bothered to remember names, but you? I want to know your name and remember it and like...treasure it. That probably sounds real frickin' stupid and sappy, but it's one-hundred percent true. You make me different and better, and I gotta say, that's somethin', because I'm already pretty amazin'."

Of course, his ego would show up eventually. Instead of annoyance, she found herself smiling.

"Not bad, mirror, but we gotta be way better for when the lady herself hears it. So, let's try that again--"

The tape shut off. In the seconds of silence that passed, she tried to compose herself. It was company policy to delete all messages in the most permanent of ways, but she paused with her finger on the delete button. Technically, it wasn't company related. It would be a danger, and yet, what part of her job wasn't? With a glance to the side, she deleted two messages which pertained to company policy, and slipped the tape into her purse.

What the Administrator didn't know wouldn't hurt her.


	4. Need

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scout's trying to mix guns and romance, with varying results. (Or: why Miss Pauling kept running into Force-A-Natures in The Contract.)

Her passenger's seat on the truck was filled for the next few weeks. She'd had to multitask, putting her listening and body burying together. It made the jobs go faster. Every so often, she'd find herself laughing at some quip he'd made on her answering machine, even through the grimmest work, she'd find a little awful pun or joke he'd made, and the day would be less wearying, less hard. Soon other tapes joined it as she failed to destroy them as well, looking for evidence to compare against his accidental confession. 

Hearing more of him only made everything become clearer. His sudden stuttering towards her, the awkwardness and how he hadn't gone outside the base on his usual flirting runs for almost an entire year.

She'd known he'd been fixated on her for a while, but he was a skirtchaser who hit on anyone female and breathing, and occasionally females who weren't after a drunken trip to a wax doll factory. She hadn't connected his sudden lack of composure with anything; after all, some of his first words towards her was asking if she'd seen him without his shirt. 

She'd listened to his accidental confession several times to try and see if this was some ploy, or she could hear a trace of snorting laughter at the end, in case Spy had taken to going that far in teasing his teammates and her. But each time all she heard was everything she assumed Scout wasn't.

She listened more carefully when he called, sometimes she even dared a little bit of small-talk within the guidelines of the handbook.

And each time she found herself softening until all hard edges smoothed towards him. Everything that had once seemed incorrigible about him came into focus. He'd worn a mask as much as Spy had.

*

"Scout, I need you," she said. Only after she'd said it did she realize what she'd said, or to be more exact, how she'd phrased it. "I-I-I mean...for.. for this." There was several seconds as she mentally berated her slip. Even someone as clueless to the atmosphere as Scout would get _that_.

"...What I meant to say, is are you free? I have something for you."

She put the phone down and busied herself with paperwork she couldn't focus on. Seconds later, the door burst open with such a noise that she jerked in surprise, her hand reaching for the gun at her hip.

" _Miss Pauling_ , I heard you needed me," Scout said.

If someone had timed Scout's trip there, he probably would've broken world records. In fact, she was surprised that there wasn't a trail of flames in his wake. 

"I didn't expect you yet---"

"Expect the impossible when it comes to me!" Scout said. He lifted up his arm in a victory gesture, or perhaps a way to show off his biceps. With him there was no telling.

"Ahem, yes, actually, I have something for you." She held up the case for him to see. "Don't tell the other guys I gave you this."

"But, they're yours, we had that talk--" Scout said.

"Oh, I've kept several, and they're absolute beauties. Do you want to see?" 

"Of course I want to see, I always wanna see," Scout said. He leaned in, his hand splayed across her desk for support. He was coming perilously close to overturning her pencil holder.

He let out a low whistle as she held up a Black Dahlia pistol, painted varying shades of black, with lighter triangles.

"That is one beautiful gun, though, fits. Someone like you should have beautiful gun, you know?"

"You should open yours," she said.

He slipped the key in and parted the case. He lifted up the factory new model Night Terror with a sense of awe. She'd had much of the same reaction upon seeing that gun in particular, with its dark artistic patterns of black and gray like storm clouds.

"It's like havin' a gun which is literally Batman, except I'm not carryin' around a dude, just his cool as hell gear."

He held up the painted gun, and struck a pose. "I am the night---!" Hey, I could do this. He grinned wide, and hoisted the gun over his shoulder. 

"Wow, are you sure I can have this? It's gorgeous," he said.

"It's the type of gun you use. I've used shotguns before, but usually prefer something smaller, and easily concealed," she said. "And I thought you might like it." She said the second more softly, her gaze averted for a moment. He hadn't caught on, too awestruck by the guns. A boy after her own heart.

"True, true―Though, hey, I could teach you if you want. The kickback ain't so back once you get used to it. A little one on one down near the training grounds. Just you and me, and some guns. Nice way to spend a night. Maybe even grab some dinner on the way back―Hey, wait a minute. This gun's a lot like mine! So, we'd match? Matchin' guns and all, like some dread duo of disaster―hey, that could be our catch phrase, not that I've been thinkin' about what kind of catch phrases we'd have if we ever, say, became superheroes together."

That was a rather specific denial. Then again, Scout never was good at keeping secrets of any kind. She figured the question wasn't _if_ but _how many notebooks are filled with practice quotes and tiny drawings of him and her holding hands?_

She guessed probably at least twenty.

She plucked up her pen and twisted it in her fingers. For all the state of the art equipment, the Administrator sure skimped on office supplies.

"Aren't we more the type to be villains?" she said.

"Maybe we'd be like, those ones that become heroes sometimes, but are mostly villains. The morally gray ones, they're more fun than the fancy-pants goody-two shoes," Scout said.

"I'm sure I can fit in saving the world into my busy schedule. It'll just have to go after the two-o-clock massacre," she said.

"So, if I help bury the bodies, we could save kittens or somethin'. Great way to spend a weekend."

"Think more along the line of five minutes. That's closer to what I can fit in," she said.  
"Miss Pauling, this is _me_ we're talkin' about. We'll have minutes to spare. All the minutes to spare, enough minutes for _ice cream_."

"In this heat?" she said.

"I'll run so fast, it won't even drip on my fingers. That's a promise, in fact, I'll go get some right now and prove ---" Scout said.

"Scout vs the New Mexico sun. Now there's a battle for the ages," she said.

"Damn right. I'll fight the sun, he ain't got anythin' on me. I'll go punch out that bastard!"

She chuckled, and shook her head. "If you're that eager for a fight, I'll have a contract prepared for you soon."

"All right, but you keep the gun this time. Though if you really wanna give me somethin', just wait to open it until I'm around. That's all I ask," he said, his voice growing soft in the way that sounded just as he had in those tapes. The raw, stripped bare version of him without the posturing and bad pick up lines.

The side she had grown fond of, despite herself.

"I'll be sure to call you," she said.

*  
It was just after the afternoon match that he got the ring. He nearly tipped over, fumbling for the button on his headset. "Scout, It's Pauling. This isn't work, it's a social call," she said.

It took his brain a few seconds to realize for the first time, it wasn't the other way around. He wasn't going to hear a dial tone after some quick instructions.

"Does it involve guns?" He said.

"When doesn't it?" she said, with a hint of amusement in her voice.

"Miss Pauling, can you open your window? I'll be there."

Every hero had their bat signals, and his was an incredible girl in really cute glasses telling him she needed him around.

Being on the second level had its advantages,that was for damn sure. 

He took a running start and leapt out that window, hurtling through the air. A few more milimeters and he would've been falling straight back to Respawn, but he caught the side of one of the two powerlines the criss-crossed through the buildings and swung himself up.

He was glad for his wraps as he slid down, rushing ever faster towards the window. He just barely caught the ledge and pulled himself up onto the narrow brickwork. At least this base had hand holds he could work with; most of them were pure wood or steel, and he would've slid right off.

Scout was one misstep away from being pieces splattered across the concrete. He caught sight of the ground below in his side vision, blurred out and dizzyingly far. He was still two windows away from her office. Just a few steps more. He forced himself on past the sudden lurching fear, and grabbed at the other window ledge, and the next, until he could see her drab place, lined with cases.

With a smirk, he leaned back enough to catch the second powerline, and ride it all the way through. He crashed into her office, papers flying everywhere in his wake. Scout barely caught himself, teetering back as he landed on her desk. He took a bow, because this kind of stuff belonged in the comics, the circus, or both.

What could he say? He made this crap look easy.

"I told you I'd show you a good time, now how about that? Bam! I bet I totally broke the record. All of them, in fact. I bet I broke all the records."

She checked her watch. "Thirty seconds? That's even better than last time, and I think you broke the speed of sound that time," she said.

"I told you I'd show you a good time. I bet you I could beat that, and not even break a sweat. Then, I could show you an even _better_ time."

"Scout, off my desk," she said. 

He chuckled, and hopped off, just barely missing the pencil holder.

"Here, I'll get 'em, no need to throw me out the window."

"You'd just hop back in," she said.

"Damn straight I would. So, not related to work, huh?" Scout said.

"You said you wanted to watch me open up the cases, and I've got about five more seconds left of lunch," she said. "Though it looks like I will be reordering papers the rest of the afternoon."

Scout came up holding a pile of papers to his chest. "Got 'em. Really? You remembered?"

"We had this conversation yesterday, it'd be pretty hard to forget," she said.

"Still," Scout said, and rubbed at the back of his neck. He dumped the pile of papers haphazardly on her desk, and tried to put it in some sort of order.

"She brought up one of the cases to her lap. Her pantyhose had several runs and bloodstains that looked like they were from a handprint on her ankle.

"You been fightin' zombies, Miss P?"

"Oh, that. My aim was a little off today, but I got him in the second shot," she said.

"Hey, good shot. I bet you totally blew his brains out," he said.

"Oh, they went everywhere. Brains tend to do that," she said.

"Now you _really_ sound like a zombie," he said.

She laughed, and opened up the case. Her face lit up with such utter joy, and it was all because of him. Well, technically she stole the guns, and Saxton Hale made them, but that was just minor details in the long run. He rested on the back of her chair and took in these seconds of pure happiness. He hadn't ever seen Miss Pauling smile like that, but he intended to make sure she grinned a lot more, no matter how many people he had to kill to make it happen.


End file.
